All I want for Christmas
by PhantomMemories
Summary: US/UK Christmastime fluff.
1. All I want for Christmas

Snow fell softly on the Portland streets, as they walked along the cobblestones towards the theatre.

The traffic, a soft background hush, was dimmed in the early evening- a huge change from what he was used to- what they were both used to- these days with all the population explosions and world traveling. Arthur somehow wasn't surprised, however, that Alfred still had these little cities, pockets of relative calm amongst his lands.

After all, even Alfred couldn't be hyperactive all the time.

"I hope you like this-" Alfred smiled at him, snowflakes getting caught in his hair and eyelashes behind the glasses. He fell silent in the next moment, leaving the sound of their footsteps muffled in the light coating of snow on the sidewalk as the only sound.

A calm night, a quiet sort of peace that could only happen this close to Christmas.

"I'm sure I will." Arthur reassured the younger man, who had matched his pace- not bursting ahead like a child, not lagging behind nervously. It was... nice. Ever since that night in Paris, these little things had been more noticeable to England. The awkward, almost shy, secret smiles that America didn't think were noticed, the way their gazes lingered like thoughts upon one another when there was no real reason.

The way America subtly managed to encourage the rest of the countries to think and act on important issues. He might come up with a wild and nearly insane plan, then state that he would take no objections-

But he always did, and at the finish of the day, some of his ideas worked, while some did not- and those who had unconventional (but in the end workable) ideas had brought them to the table, rather than hide them for fear of ridicule. America took the ridicule for himself, and merely smiled when something was accomplished- and didn't take nearly as much credit as some would say he did.

Arthur had started putting things together after that shimmering orange-hazed night, and the nearly heartbreaking morning after that had ended more happily than expected with a good long talk, and quite a bit of cuddling. Not that he would have objected to sex- however the comfort and the settling of a few important issues had come first, and always would- especially if he wanted to end the cycles of personal pain that they had been inflicting upon themselves and one another.

Which led him here, to the streets of one of Alfred's smaller cities, in a climate that was similar to his own (Perhaps a bit chillier, of course, and then there was the snow and ice-) to see a play that America hadn't mentioned the name of- or perhaps it was all part of the surprise that had started when he had stepped from the airplane into the white and frozen world a few hours ago.

Arthur slipped on a bit of said ice that he hadn't seen- only to have one of his arms caught, and another slipped around his waist by his companion to steady him.

"Careful. Black ice is the worst- you never see it until it's too late." Alfred hadn't let go of the arm, nor removed his own-

"Why do you call it black, when ice has no colour?" The warmth of Alfred's touch was slowly- and reluctantly, Arthur saw in a glance from those startlingly blue eyes- withdrawn. "Ice is transparent-"

"It's stealthy," Alfred answered fairly swiftly, "And if it's on the asphalt the road still looks black instead of white with buildup, so people don't see it. Like what just happened with you."

"I was a bit distracted- how did you know it was there."

"My city." Alfred's grin was a bit more distracting. "And I almost fell there last night when I got the tickets- figured it was too cold for things to melt and change-  
"Then why didn't you-" Arthur tried not to snap, honestly he did-

"I forgot-" Alfred looked a bit sheepish, "Sorry, just forgot to warn you before we were on top of it."

"We're there anyway, so no more ice-"

And they were. The billboard outside read 'A Christmas Carol', and Arthur wasn't certain if he should be delighted that America obviously still enjoyed some of England's most famous writers, or groan because not only would he be subjected to an hour of Americans who couldn't quite lose their bloody flat and nasal accents, but Alfred would be clinging to him for most of the night because of the ghosts-

On second thought, he clinging part might not be so bad.

"Tada!" America was beaming, however, and England couldn't help but return that sunshine filled smile with a faint one of his own. As long as they hadn't ruined it with modernization and rock soundtracks- "We're right on time. They have a nice chorus, and the sound system is pretty nice for the size-"

"Let's go in and find our seats then," England took the ticket that was not so much offered as waved in his face. He didn't, until they had seated themselves in some of the better seats, lean over to whisper to America, "You do know there are ghosts in this, right?"

The faint blush on Alfred's face told him more than words.

"Yeah... I just... they're good ghosts though." Alfred did sound a bit nervous, and Arthur couldn't help the chuckle as he squeezed the hand that had slipped into his own. "I'll be okay. Just-"

The faint sound of an old carol wafted into the audience from the speakers, and the lights lowered before Alfred could finish the thought.

It would probably surprise most of the other Nations that America could be this silent- this respectful of a performance. He wasn't always- but since those masks and games of pretend between the two of them had been broken, neither of them needed to hide behind mannerisms that could be considered rude. At least with each other.

Yes, they still argued on occasion, but the pain that had sparked the anger was gone.

"Marley was dead."

There were portions of the production that England did find himself cringing, but all in all, the players did a passable performance. Alfred's hand had tightened when the ghosts first came out- particularly the last one- but he managed to refrain from screaming, or otherwise embarrassing himself or Arthur

By the time the last 'God Bless Us Every One' had been spoken, England found himself smiling again. A genuine, happy little smile that came from realizing that part of the reason why he'd been brought here tonight was because America wanted to show him this- a sign that truly, Alfred had never stopped loving him, even if he had been acting like a clueless buffoon.

America might be a land of immigrants, where customs were borrowed and created, however this tradition- it was England's story, England's writer- and perhaps akin to one of the better Christmas greeting cards that England had received.

They walked out, together, into the chill of the night. The moon was almost brighter than the street lights, making the snow on the sidewalks and trees and buildings glow softly. England knew the other reason that he'd been invited, heading back towards the condominium near the waterfront. It was in the atmosphere, unmistakable.

And when Alfred's arm linked with his, he leaned his head on the taller man's shoulder briefly.

America just wanted to be with England. In his company, next to him, walking with him- spending time with him like they hadn't for years.

It made Arthur feel all warm inside, like he'd been out in the dark cold like this for years, and was suddenly brought into the bright summer light.

Maybe they'd make love tonight, maybe they wouldn't. Arthur rather hoped for the possibility, himself, after all it had been a month since their last meeting, and he really did miss the intimacy, the touch of skin on skin- but the hope itself was a shiny new possibility that had penetrated his bubble of pessimism. (Not easily, mind you, but all the same.) For all he truly cared, they could stay spooned under the blankets all night, sleeping with his arms around Alfred to protect him from the ghosts (that didn't exist in such a new condominium.)

Alfred paused as they entered the courtyard near the condominium, and Arthur was forced to stop as well, turning a bit to face the younger man.

"Did you like it?" Alfred's face was hopeful, earnest- and reddened from the cold air. Arthur couldn't help but think how much he loved seeing that face, free from pretense.

"The acting wasn't all rubbish," Arthur responded, letting the faint hint of his own smile remain. He could see Alfred translating in his head. "I suppose it was quite... nice."

The responding grin was fabulously warm, even as the icy wind chose that moment to pick up, blowing the loose snow into the air around them. It was like being in the center of a snowglobe.

He wasn't certain who had made the first move- but the middle of the now gently settling snow, his lips were on Alfred's, tasting the sweetness of ginger and cinnamon, and the uniqueness of America that England enjoyed so much. Warmth from the contact spread from his lips, over his face, and down his entire body, as he wrapped his arms around to pull his lover closer. The warmth radiating from the wool coat would ward off any chill.

Wrapped up in each other as the snow settled, leaving the night cold and barren once more, Arthur longed to stay a little longer- however it was winter, and one did not stand in the middle of a public area snogging, while one's feet turned to lumps of ice.

"C'mon." Alfred said softly against his cheek. "We should go warm up."

"I am warm." Arthur said, his hand slipping into Alfred's, and leading him up the stairs.

As long as they were together, nothing else mattered.


	2. Comfort and Joy

It began with a kiss that warmed him thoroughly, sending the electric currents of desire and utter need through his entire body.

Soft and sweet, with the snow falling all around them. Arthur tasted of tea and spice, and Christmas. It delighted Alfred to the core, just having him there. Kissing him brought the warmth from head to toe, in that now familiar tingling, as his entire body told him 'You're alive, and he really loves you'.

"C'mon. We should go warm up." Alfred suggested, his face against Arthur's smooth cheek. It wasn't necessarily a lewd suggestion, but America could think of a few activities he wouldn't object to that would get them warmer. And he was feeling like a live wire, tingling with energy.

"I am warm." Arthur told him, squeezing his hand as England led him up the stairs to his condo.

"Warmer?" Alfred thought of spice and tea, and tasting soft skin, and the freedom to touch, and hold-.

"Perhaps." England was giving him that look again from beneath sooty lashes, heavy brow arched with something that might be suggestive. Okay, so that was a blatant 'Come hither' look. "Are you still cold?"

"A little." Alfred fumbled with his key, hands a bit stiff from the cold- why had he forgotten his gloves? Damn it-

"Well, once we get inside, we can do something about your hands, love." Arthur's hand steadied his own, and the key slid into the lock. "I imagine they're freezing without gloves. Did you leave them at the theatre?"

"Probably." The door was opened through their team effort, and they tumbled inside the contrasting atmosphere. Arthur immediately began removing Alfred's outdoor clothing, before seeing to his own, but not without a protesting "Arthur..."

"Hush," Arthur gave him a glare that lacked sincerity, and contained more concern, "Go warm your hands."

"Cold hands, warm heart?" Alfred said playfully, and ducked as the tip of Arthur's scarf was swung at him accurately.

"Idiot." A smirk out of Arthur negated any insult, instead giving the word a fond tone, as Alfred rubbed his hands together near the furnace's register. "Cold hands are no substitute for ice cubes."

"Sounds kinky." Alfred couldn't help but let the words escape, while he tried not to imagine Arthur trailing an ice cube on his chest, and circling his- or the other way around- And failed.

"You are not that innocent yourself," Arthur's voice was in his ear, and arms circling around his middle. "Not with the number of pornographic movies produced in your country."

"I..." Alfred said, almost squirming as hands began to move in a fashion that England knew perfectly well would produce- and it did. He couldn't stop the giggle that escaped his throat as Arthur suddenly started tickling him. "Stoppit-"

Girlish giggling aside, he really didn't mind the contact. It was just another sign of changes. They were free of those inhibitions that had kept them at arms length from each other for so long. Alfred squirmed around to face Arthur, trying to halfheartedly pin the other's arms down so that he could catch his breath. And it worked, as he found himself staring into smiling green eyes- _smiling_. Not quite the same as it had been so long ago- neither of them would ever find that pure newness again, too much lay between them for that simple untouched love. Things had changed, but still, it was all right. Some of those changes had led to this strange new world where neither of them had to hold back.

One of Alfred's hands found its way to Arthur's cheek, caressing the warmth as the older man blushed faintly. It was all right to touch. Alfred didn't have to hesitate, and hide how he felt behind foolish words and gestures that made that arm's length seem like miles. After so many years of pretending he didn't care, trying to hide how much he wanted to do just this—hold and be held within the circle of arms that brought him so much comfort, and joy.

And love.

As much as he pretended not to notice things, (had tried not to for so long, because he'd truly believed Arthur had hated him, and the hope that he did not had hurt far too much to bear-) there was no way that he could escape this new reality, where the glances that they shared weren't full of uncertainty, but instead gave an assurance that he'd never realized he'd needed before.

The hesitation that Alfred had always noticed when Arthur was asked to work on something with him was gone, and the continuous scowling had vanished- not that Arthur didn't have moments when Alfred just wanted to stop and kiss the frown away- but the little pessimistic voice that he'd never really known how to shoo away from England had let up (he had always known that the voice existed, and believed for so long that trying too hard would only make it worse for Arthur), and the gloomy moods had been fewer and further between.

They still argued- but there was no vicious desire to push the other away now- but only when it was important. Arthur gave him things to think about, and Alfred could now see points that he never had been able to before when they were tinged with what he had thought was subtle loathing, and desire to pull him down. It never had been anything more than his own paranoia.

And now they could talk for hours without screaming- but more often, Alfred would just sit near Arthur, not necessarily touching, and be comfortable with the silence that he would have once filled with nervous chatter (he didn't know how to ease the little ache of separation any other way than to distract himself, and others from the nervousness that he thought was obvious and made him look weak-)

"What are you thinking about, love?" Arthur's arms were circling around him now, not tickling, not groping- just holding.

"You." Alfred said, resting his forehead against his lover's. "How could I think of anything else right now?"

And then Alfred kissed him.

He didn't care if this led to more caresses, more touches- Alfred kind of hoped that maybe it would, because he wanted to be as close to Arthur as he could, while they had the opportunity. Even if it didn't, the touch of lips, the taste of tea and spice- the simple pleasure of knowing that the one he loved was seeing how much he cared-

"I love you," Alfred breathed as they both broke away for air, enjoying the way that Arthur's face flooded with color to the tips of his ears. "I love you so much-"

"And I love you," The words were spoken into his neck, as Arthur pressed his warm face against Alfred's skin. "I love you more than I can bear sometimes, and it's hard to convince myself sometimes that this is real-"

"It's real." Alfred rubbed his cheek against the blond hair. "And I'll say it as often as I need to... Arthur-"

There was another meeting of their lips, tangling, tasting- and the heat was rising through Alfred, until he couldn't stand it anymore.

"So..." he started breathlessly, as they paused, panting and clinging to one another like there was no way for them to stand separately. Perhaps they couldn't- "You told your boss you were spending Christmas in America..."

He didn't have to complete the sentence, because Arthur's eyes widened slightly, as he gave a sudden snort of laughter and a halfhearted tap to the back of Alfred's head.

"Only you." Arthur's laughter died away to a heated smile, and a nod.

They walked together to the bedroom.


End file.
